Waiting for the Snow
by patsan
Summary: As Christmas fast approaches Mary tries not to give up hope. A one shot sequel to "An Ideal Marriage".


Hi there my lovelies MM shippers and happy belated Christmas wishes :)

Here's my contribution to that wonderful gift exchange that went on on Tumblr this year, and took the name of **"MM fandom secret santa"**. I was blown away by the talent and the enthusiasm of everyone involved, and it made me a very happy shipper on Christmas day. Very soon a masterpost will all the MM godies will appear on my Tumblr (you'll find me as 'patsan' over there too), so watch out for that.

This story was written for crawleyhouse, known as **Evangeline1920** here on this website. A draft version already appeared on Tumblr, but I'm posting it here all polished up, with some changes and a whole new section that hopefully will make it a better story.

It fits into my _An Ideal Marriage_ universe. If you had not read it (but I'd really like you would) you just need to know that that story takes the "do you love me enough to spend your life with me?" conversation from 1x07 and explores it in depths. At the end of that fic MM are engaged.

In my headcanon for that story, Mary and Matthew then married after the break of the war, and Matthew joined the army not long after that.

I would like to thank **Orangeshipper** for her enthusiasm over this little fic and for her help polishing it up.

That sad... enjoy!

_Disclaimer: these characters are not mine. I'm just, very gladly, borrowing them for fun._

* * *

**December 12****th**** 1916**

Missing.

He was _missing_.

_"What does this mean, is he even alive?" she'd breathed with shaking lips, looking up at her father imploringly. _

_"I wish I knew what it means, my darling, but it's all they'll say to me. They don't know where he is. He and his man servant went on a patrol three days ago, and they didn't come back. That's all I know."_

_"We mustn't lose hope, my dear," Isobel had said smiling reassuringly at her, taking hold of her trembling hand, enclosing it in her warmer and rougher ones. "He might still turn up during the night, they might both turn up unexpectedly. We'll know more during the morning."_

_"Yes, of course," her father had promptly added, "I'll telephone again tomorrow to find out more, but for now, please, Mary, try not to worry too much. Things like this happen all the time, apparently. Soldiers go missing here and there, and then they turn up at one camp or another, perfectly safe."_

_"Or they turn out to be dead!"_

_"Mary, please-"_

_"Papa, I'm not a child anymore, and my husband could very well be dead, so don't ask me to stay calm, it won't do it any good. It won't do anything at all, till I know one way or another," her voice had broken on the last sentence, and she'd squeezed her mother-in-law's hands more tightly, leaning against her just a little. _

_Isobel had guided her to the nearest chair, and Mary had sat down in a haze, barely aware of the worried looks she and her father were exchanging or of the concerned expression on Anna's face, quietly waiting in a corner of the room now, the evening dress she'd picked for the night still draped on her arms. _

_Nothing really had mattered after that, as only one thought kept swirling in her mind, filling every part of her brain, like a chant, like a curse._

_Missing._

_Matthew was missing._

That had been two days ago.

Mary took a deep breath as she watched outside the window of their room, at the rain that kept falling as it had the past couple of days.

She had so hoped they would have snow this Christmas for it would make everything perfect, at least for a while.

It had been so sudden, the news of his leave. They'd thought it would be many more months before they could see each other again. After all, he'd been in England for some time touring Yorkshire with his general to boost recruitment only that summer.

What a wonderful time that had been.

It'd felt like honeymooning again, the two of them strolling the grounds of Downton at every occasion he could be spared, lingering in their favourite places, even spending a whole day together in London once, while the room the Rosamund had reserved for them turned into a love nest that same night.

She had not cared at all that they couldn't always be together, for the very knowledge that he was out of danger at least for a couple of months was a comfort greater than she'd dared to hope.

It had made her happier than she'd been in a very long time, her heart leaping in her chest every time Carson would come into the sitting room and announce in his steady, deep voice, just a hint of a smile on his face, _"Captain Crawley just arrived, Milady."_

It'd been hard when he'd to go back toward the end of September, the familiar fear gripping both of them as they said their goodbyes for now, hands pressing desperately together, eyes roving over the other's face, committing every small detail to memory.

Till next time, yes, whenever that might be.

And then he'd written at the end of November.

_"My dearest Mary,"_ his letter began_."I still can't believe how fortunate I've been. I can't reveal all the details of how it happened but the last few weeks have granted me an unexpected, and so very welcome prize. I'm coming home for Christmas, my love. I'm coming home to you."_

She'd wept with joy, and composed an answer right away with shaky fingers, handing it to Anna with an infectious smile that had made her maid grin.

How swiftly things can change, she thought, as she turned away from the window and went to pull the rope, climbing on the bed and then sitting on it, waiting, on his side, her palm resting lightly over the mattress as she willed herself not to reach for his pillow, that it felt too much like a desperate gesture now, and she wasn't desperate, not yet.

_Not yet._

Anna had a tray with her as usual when she entered the bedroom a few minutes later, but Mary just shook her head like she'd done for some days now.

"I think I'd like the blue gown this morning, Anna. It flatters my figure very much, and I'd like to wear it till I still can."

Anna sat the tray down on her nightstand, and stood silent beside the bed till Mary turned her head towards her, her eyebrows raised in question.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so, milady," she began, "but I think you should eat something. You've barely touched food these past few days."

"My appetite wasn't too grand even before that," Mary reminded her, standing up and going to her dressing table.

"Which is exactly why you should eat now. You have to take care of yourself, milady, especially now."

Mary watched her lady's maid's reflection in her mirror, before opening one of the jewellery boxes in front of her, and looking for her rings. "If you could also find my matching coat and hat, Anna, that would be wonderful," she said flatly as she put the rings on.

The other woman only nodded, and went outside the room with a small sigh.

It was only then that Mary raised her eyes to stare at herself in the mirror.

This time, she very consciously moved her hand to lie on her stomach, and she pressed her lips together.

She understood why Anna was so insistent, why everyone else was so apprehensive, and she supposed she should be grateful for it, but it seemed so wrong to worry about that when Matthew-

Mary closed her eyes, as she began to feel sick.

He didn't know.

She had not written to him about her news, because this was supposed to be her Christmas gift for him, and now that he was coming home she'd pictured telling him when they would finally find a moment alone together, after the expected celebration with the rest of the family.

Her breath became shallower, and that insistent nausea that had plagued her since after he'd left came back, like clockwork, to torture her.

She'd born it with a light heart till now, miserable in some ways, but sick with elation for what it meant, for the joy it would bring them.

Mary took a deep breath, her jaw tightening as she waited for the moment to pass, just like Isobel had taught her, as she blocked everything out, and focused on the only thing that mattered.

_Please_…

_Just please…_

_Let him be alright. _

_._

* * *

_._

It had not rained today. The sky was clouded, but they weren't the dark, heavy clouds that had closed it from view in the past week or so.

It was better this way because she could at least go out of the house, away from the looks of her family and the servants, away from the contrived chatter, from the endless silences.

They still didn't know anything, no matter how many times her father had called the War Office.

Not even Isobel's contacts with the Red Cross had given them any new information.

They were told to wait, always to wait, that they will be informed as soon as something new was known, and yet here they were, eight days later, still in the dark.

Mary began feeling her hope slowly dwindling.

She tried to cling to it, willing herself to believe that everything would be alright in the end, that it had to be, but truth be told, as she read his letters over and over again, and caressed his clean handwriting with the pads of her fingers, tears always filling her eyes, blurring her sight, dread began clenching her heart, that he might not come at all, that it might all be lost, just like that, and that her love might be taken from her, lying beyond any help in some unknown dyke in that foreigner country.

_"Promise you'll come back," she'd wanted to whisper against his lips that last morning at the station. _

_"I love you," she'd said instead, for she knew he couldn't make promises, and when he'd tilted his head back to look at her under the rim of his army cap his eyes were burning, with love, with fear, with words they both knew he could not say. _

_"I love you too, my darling, so terribly terribly much," he'd said after a beat, and he'd leaned down to kiss her again, and again, and again still, till the whistle was blown, and the doors had began pounding against their compartments as they were being closed. "Take care of yourself, Mary. I have to go now."_

_"I wish you didn't."_

_"Me too, Mary. Me too."_

_But go he did, and she'd watched as the smoke encompassed the train, afraid for a moment that it might take away the last image she had of him, but then it cleared, and Matthew was leaning out of the window, his hat in his hand, a frown furrowing his brow, as he too had been trying to keep her in his sight as long as possible, frantic to see her one last time, one sweet last time._

Mary swallowed as stood up from the bench she always favoured, the one under the old cedar tree in front of the house.

It was there he'd made her smile, once upon a time, and then giggle so many months after that, when she asked him challengingly to tell her some funny story from his childhood, and he'd complied, his ears turning pink in embarrassment as he talked, but the skin around his eyes has crinkled in delight and his smile had been wide as he watched her laugh in amusement.

He'd looked so adorable and dashing in the sunny air of that summer day that she had to reward him with a kiss, no matter how loudly her mother would scold her later for being so inappropriate where everyone from the house could see them.

She looked down at the bench and sighed, and then she finally moved back towards the house, shivering in the cold air of the afternoon, as she wondered not for the first time if these memories would be all she had left of him.

_Not only them_, she reminded herself, as she walked inside the Great Hall, and Carson welcomed her with a slight nod of his head, and a warm look in his eyes.

"Welcome back, M'lady," he said, taking her coat.

"Thank you, Carson," she replied.

"Always."

And she smiled, for the first time in days, only a slight twist of her lips, but enough for the butler to smile back.

_Not only them,_ she thought again, as she ascended the stairs to their room.

It wouldn't be the same, not even close to be the same, and she so hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it needs be, if she must, then…

A sob broke from her throat, just as she walked into the bedroom, and leaned heavily against the door, as her shoulders shook, and her breath became laboured, and all she wanted to do was to lie down and cry, but she forced herself to calm down, to stay still and wait for the moment of weakness, for the desperation to pass, because it wasn't time yet, and because she didn't know, and because she wasn't alone anymore.

.

* * *

.

She woke up early two mornings later, and she waited for Anna in bed, where she finally had a proper breakfast for the first time in days.

The maid smiled at her, and Mary smiled back, and for some reason the day seemed hopeful somewhat, even though nothing was really changed.

And yet, when she heard an urgent knock on her door just after she and Anna had finished dressing her for the day, her heart didn't fall. It skipped a beat instead, when she saw her father enter the room, a small piece of paper in his hand.

She watched him questioningly, but then a wide grin broke on his face and she knew.

"Thank God," she whispered. "Oh, thank God," she said louder, and she felt tears forming into her eyes so she swallowed, as her father came closer to her.

"Tell me everything," she asked urgently and he showed her the telegram as he told her that a Captain Matthew Crawley and his man servant had been admitted to a dressing field station a week ago, but with no grave injuries to account for.

"I telephoned the war office to know more and they said they're on their way to England right now!"

"So they are alright? Matthew is alright?"

It was stated there on the telegram, black on white, but it still seemed too incredible, too good to be true.

"Not only he is alright, my darling, but he's coming home! Our Matthew is coming home!" he exclaimed with a happy grin.

A laugh bubbled inside her, and there was only so much she could do not to burst into tears of relief in front of her father, but then his strong arms enveloped her in a tight hug, and she welcomed it with all her heart as she cried in his shoulder, and she didn't mind this time, because the nightmare had ended, and he was coming back.

Oh God, her darling Matthew was coming back.

.

* * *

.

It still had not snowed on Christmas Eve, but the sky was white and the air was freezing, so there was hope for the night, Carson had said.

She would've minded more before, but right now she only wished her husband was there, and since he was on his way, at last, although he wouldn't probably arrive in time for Christmas, she really didn't care whether it snowed or not tonight.

She took a long walk that morning, wrapped in a warm woolen coat she'd bought the last time she was in London, something not too extravagant, as the war required, but elegant enough to appeal her, and she wore it with a small amount of pleasure today, because she was happy, truly happy, for the first time in months.

She knew of course that it wasn't over yet, and that he would have to go back in just a few days time, but it didn't matter now, she _tried_ not to make it matter for now, as she walked past their bench, and to the elegant Corinthian temple just across the lawn.

She smiled when she got there, because right after they got engaged it had become one of their favourite places in the grounds of Downton. They had spent many moments alone there, admiring the structure of the monument, and… _discussing _it, in great details, and a light laugh escaped her lips as she remembered the code word they'd come up with to refer to their enjoyable walks together, when in all fairness they'd exchanged a very small amount of words in that little time they had been able to steal away from the watchful eyes of her mother during their short engagement.

But oh, how wonderfully surprising and instructive these meetings had been.

They'd learnt to give and to take, and even though they'd never passed the boundaries set by propriety, they'd walked on them many times, and the small liberties they had taken had been an astonishing new way to know and fall even more in love with each other.

Not even the hasted circumstances of their wedding, the shadow of the war darkening the world all around her, couldn't take away the perfect happiness they'd found in each other, in every kiss, in every touch.

And now, finally, they were going to be together again.

.

* * *

.

Mary came downstairs a little earlier than necessary that same night. No one was down yet, but she appreciated the quietness as she watched the big tree that stood proudly in the middle of the Great Hall, decorated just that afternoon with all kind of sparkly trinkets.

It shone in the golden light of the vast room, and she smiled, because it truly was majestic.

"That is really impressive," a voice said behind her. "But then again, I wouldn't expect anything less if Carson had his saying in choosing it."

Mary swirled around, and a sigh of surprise, of relief, of pure, sheer joy left her lips as she hurried toward Matthew and almost jumped in his arms.

He wrapped them around her, picking her up from the floor and spinning her around, as they both laughed, and the sound of his laugh warmed her in a way that she'd thought lost for such an agonizingly long time.

"You're here," she exhaled when he finally put her down on her feet.

"I am," he said, as he needed to give her confirmation.

"I thought it would still be some more days before I saw you," she revealed quietly, then she smiled, as she tilted her head on one side, "but I'm glad that's not the case, because I've decided I'm going to have a perfect Christmas, and I always get what I want."

He smiled quietly down at her, taking her cheerful jokes for what they were.

He raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it with the back of his fingers, and when she leaned against his touch, he cradled her face in his palm, as his other hand came to rest on the small of her back.

"Mary," he breathed.

And she closed the small space between them with urgency, delving her hands in his hair, knocking his cap off, as they finally kissed, as he pushed into her, making her stumble with the force of his embrace, but he was there to catch her now, to keep her from falling, and she lost herself in him, in his warmth, in the roughness of his greatcoat brushing the silk of her dress, in his familiar scent, in his delicious intake of breath when she finally bit his lower lip just slightly, to remind herself that this was real, and that he was there, that it was alright.

They separated breathing heavily.

"My darling," he said in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine.

"Never again," she murmured, forcefully, against his lips. "Just never again."

He didn't talk, but kissed her again, deeply, insistently, his hands all around her, and Mary was just thinking that they should probably go up their bedroom now, before someone came down and saw them, when her mother's voice put an end to their kiss anyway.

"Matthew?"

.

* * *

.

It was some hours before they could finally lie in each other's arms, alone at last after his well deserved bath, and after an excruciatingly long dinner with all their family, who had obviously wanted to know what had happened, or that little of it that he could tell them.

Matthew had filled them in as best as he could, reassuring repeatedly her father and his own mother that he was never in real danger, but Mary had noticed the way his jaw tightened from time to time, and how the hand that he kept on this thigh would close in a fist as he spoke, and so she'd claimed a headache right after the plates were cleared, and asked him to join her as she retired to their room.

"I am sorry you are not well," he'd said as soon as they entered their bedroom. "Are you sure you don't want me to ask Anna to fetch you something for your headache?"

But Mary had grasped the lapels of his mess kit, bringing him close to her.

"Don't you dare," she'd replied as she'd wound her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

It had not taken long for her husband to catch up.

Now her head was resting in its favourite place on his shoulder, as he languidly ran his fingers up and down her bare back.

She snuggled closer.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered against her hair. "We weren't exactly in any real danger, but…" he paused, and she felt his heart beat faster as he swallowed, "for a moment I wondered if I would ever see you again."

His arms tightened around her, and they stayed silent for some moment. Then Mary twisted so that she was leaning over his chest.

She looked down, and a new scar caught her eye.

It was small and short, and it lay just over his heart.

She let her fingers caress it.

"I'm glad you're here now," she said softly, "I know you can't talk of what you do… over there, and… it scares me not to know, but I understand that's your cross to bear, and I'm only sorry that I can't help you with it," she finished in a breath, raising her eyes now and meeting his.

He shifted, bringing her more fully over him, and her hair fell over his chest, like a curtain on either side of their faces, as one of his hands reached up for the side of her neck.

She leaned down, but he kept her in place, and when she looked at him questioningly, she saw him pursue his lips, as a deep frown knitted his brow.

She waited, her fingers brushing lightly over the smatter of hair that covered his chest, and when he spoke again his voice was low and distant.

"When I'm… over there, my deepest desire is to come home to you," he began as he looked somewhere over her shoulder. "It's a constant thought that I take with me everywhere I go. It keeps me company every moment, especially at night, when… when the rumbles of the shells sometimes cease, and all seems so quiet, even though it's not."

He paused, taking a deep breath, and finally locked eyes with her.

She didn't smile encouragingly at him, but her fingers on his chest flexed, and she moved closer, as a deep sigh left his lips at the movement.

"It's hell, over there, Mary, and I don't wish you to know any of it, but the thought of you, here at Downton, and safe, and every one of the letters you take time to write and send to me… your words and my memories… they keep me going, my darling, even when it's been a bad day, even when I'm so scared that… I don't-"

Mary didn't let him finish.

"Shhhh," she murmured against his chin when she leaned down to put a small kiss on it. "You are here now, and we can make new memories for you to take back when… when you have to go again."

"I wish I didn't have to," he whispered, a moment of weakness, and she watched his eyes become glassy, as his breath became shallow.

She kissed his lips then, lightly, but firmly, whishing she could take some of his burden with her, knowing that she couldn't, and deciding that the moment had come to gave him her gift.

She settled back after a while, looking deeply in his eyes.

"You will come back," she said, with a steadiness in her voice that she didn't feel, but willing him to believe her. "You have to, for me. For… for us."

"Of course, darling," he replied, with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You all have been so good to me."

"No," she persisted, as she entwined her fingers with his, "you have to come back to your wife… and to your child."

His eyes widened at that, and his mouth hung open.

He stayed still, like he was trying to grasp the enormity of her revelation, and when she moved away and off him, bringing him with her as she rested over her back, he followed, their joined hands now cradling her stomach.

"Are you really…" he breathed, incredulous, as a small smile began playing at the corners of his mouth.

She smiled tenderly up at him. "You are going to be a father," she confirmed, and then sighed as she welcomed his searing kiss, only to pull back a moment later when she felt wet against her cheeks.

He was crying.

"Oh my darling," she murmured as she hugged him and a few tears escaped her eyes as well, "my darling, darling Matthew."

Finally, after not long, a small laugh echoed from him and they smiled at each other adoringly, as tears and laughter mingled in between them, here, in the safety of their room.

They held each other in the dark, shifting closer to whisper words of love, and hope, keeping to themselves promises they knew they could not ask nor offer.

And as midnight approached and passed they found each other again, savouring every touch, every stroke of his tongue on her skin, every caress of her fingers on his flesh, committing sounds, and moans and sighs of pleasure to memory for when it all would be needed.

They didn't notice that outside their window the snow had begun to fall.

It would cover the grounds of Downton during the night, and the roofs and streets of the Downton village, and many smiles would welcome it in the morning, as laughs would be shared over attempts to build a snowman that looked like it had seen better days, or while dodging a carefully aimed snowball.

Children would giggle as they would delve their small hands into it, and everyone would look up at the sky with hope, and joy, at least for a day, as a prayer would linger in everyone's heart.

That this war could be over, and that all the loved ones would finally, once and for all, come back home.

.

.

**The End**


End file.
